


A Good Romance

by Raging_Celiac



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: As in it literally takes place the day before, F/M, I suppose, Pre-The Mark of Athena (Heroes of Olympus), That makes the "Pre" feel kinda frivilous, The Annabeth/Percy is in the past too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-06 06:44:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16827268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raging_Celiac/pseuds/Raging_Celiac
Summary: The Argo takes off in a few hours. Annabeth knows she should be helping out at camp, eating dinner, preparing herself - but she finds herself drawn to the Camp's shore. Sitting there, nervous, tense, and worried, she begins to think...





	A Good Romance

**Annabeth Chase** sat on the beach in utter quiet, hands at her sides. Her mouth felt dry, and the fact that she hadn’t bothered to bring a blanket added unneeded annoyance onto her already tense disposition. The sand was soft, and for that fact it hurt more than anything else.

The Sound lapped against Camp’s shores benignly. The water was an odd mixture of yellow-orange and blue-green, which had no right to work, but did. Her eyes watched the water darken the sand it could touch, following the miniature arcs and ridges it made.

She’d always found water somewhat amazing. It could climb without needing nerves or a stupidly dangerous rock climbing wall. It changed the world, gave rise to civilizations, and it was just about the only thing that everyone could drink on its own. Aside from carbonated water, of course. Seltzer water could go die for all she cared - and Leo, too, now that she thought of it, because the crafty gremlin had found a way to remove the bubbles that had always served as a warning to people that they were about to drink the worst thing in existence. She didn’t know what deal he and the Stolls had struck with the enchanted goblets, but she wanted all parties melted down.

Then she shivered at the thought of “Leo-cup”.

Annabeth sucked in a slow, deep breath. _3.14..._

_1592..._

_653589..._

She rubbed her hands on her knees uncomfortably, her chest burning. She felt like a dam about to burst, as if someone had told her “Hey! Just an FYI, there’s a bomb set to go off tomorrow inside you right now!” then scampered off. That person looked and sounded strangely like Hera, for some reason.

There was a good six or seven hours between her and when they’d leave, she knew. It was silly to be perturbed by it, honestly: it’d go well or it wouldn’t, all she could do is try her best. She’d repeated that out loud to herself over and over again but it hadn’t helped. Not really.

It had been so long.

Nearly a year. A year since she’d seen lock or lip of Percy. He wasn’t just her boyfriend - he was someone she trusted. He’d been a constant in her life for the better part of four years, which was commendable in her opinion.

She wasn’t stupid. She’d done her introspection. She knew how she’d lashed out at him because of Rachel, and while the other girl hadn’t directly told her, the silence she received when she asked about it was enough to discern the effect created. Gods, she’d been stupid.

She still felt guilty about all the dumb stunts she pulled, especially when they were going through the Labyrinth. She’d been so exasperated: she finally kisses the dopey, bidepal approximation of a person that was Percy Jackson and then he’s sent away to Calypso’s Island of all places. Even worse, in a way, was that he came back: because she knew that Calypso only got sent heroes she’d fall in love with and who have to leave, and the only way for Percy to have gotten back…

Annabeth shook her head. The thought that someone else had eyes for Percy wasn’t maddening to her - not really. Oh, it made her angry, but that anger was rooted firmly in fear. She’d lost her family twice just by the time Percy reappeared after blowing up Mt. Saint Helens. Watching Thalia and Luke fight one Mount Othrys made her want to burst into tears. All her mind went to was the times when they’d smiled at each other. Laughed together. Watching that get permanently destroyed almost hurt more than running away had.

Opening up to Percy hadn’t been easy. He was cute, and that helped (as much as she didn’t want to admit it, that stuff _did_ influence her behavior), but she still felt a strong urge to shut her mouth and never open it again. Percy might’ve been nice, but it was still easier for her to keep it to herself. She didn’t have to consider how people would react to finding out about it in anything but an abstract sense, which wasn’t challenging to do. She’d had her own fantasies about admitting it in a suitably dramatic locale and averting her eyes and all that, and those were disconcertingly comfortable to her.

In the end, of course, she’d admitted her beautifully fucked up childhood in a truck to Vegas with poached zebras. It felt good to get it off her chest. She’d told him then that she’d fight beside him, and she’d meant it.

Annabeth ran a hand down her face, letting out a long breath. Her hand was clammy.

Just a few days after that she’d held his hand.

For some reason that still made her feel a bit sheepish, and she had a bad feeling she was blushing some. It wasn’t logical to have a memory do that, but it did. She remembered more vividly than perhaps was good for her all the college diplomas, money, family photos, love letters, and keepsakes of others’ tragedy floating in the Styx. Charon hadn’t helped whatsoever - in his italian formal dress or otherwise - and she’d grabbed onto Percy’s hand on some instinct. She wasn’t able to make out his face to see his reaction, a fact that still irked some part of her, but he hadn’t let go. His hand had been a kind of sickly warm because of how he was sweating, something her hand had been doing then, too, so she hadn’t faulted him for it. It wasn’t the perfect dying sunset of oranges, yellows and purples she’d imagined would be there when she first held hands with a boy, but she still liked it. Her hand was calloused from years of training at camp, but Percy’s was smooth and unblemished. Soft.

Annabeth quietly chuckled at herself, before her humor left her as if she was whipped.

Percy should’ve been here. Gaea should be staying asleep; she’d earned her happy ending when she saved the world once, hadn’t she?

Annabeth closed her eyes, biting her lip. Getting angry over that wouldn’t help. Unfortunately, where her brain went to as distraction wasn’t helpful, either.

She was tied to the foremast of the _Queen Anne’s Revenge_. Percy was giving her a last furtively concerned glance as he walked over to the steering wheel. She caught his eye and nodded at his wax ears. Percy made a face.

The ship slowly began to skirt around the Island of the Sirens. At first, she only heard some amazingly catchy tune. Top 100 in the world amazing. Then it became a vision. 

She was in Central Park with Luke and her dad and her mom. The city around her was all marble and columns: a new Athenian Acropolis, spanning the globe. The temples around her would stand for a thousand years. Two thousand. Somehow, she just _knew_ that.

Her mom and dad held out their arms. They were smiling. Gods, they were smiling. They were happy. Luke was grinning, too, and his scar was gone. His eyes still had the light they’d held while he’d been on the run: a spark of hope. He was happy.

Annabeth wasn’t fully aware of getting out of her bonds. Something to do with her dagger. Her teeth, too, probably. Jumping overboard was as natural as breathing. One plus one equals go to The Sirens. Even swimming past the obscenely sharp rocks was simple as pie when everything she ever wanted was her reward. A pitch black beach full of wrecked ships - who were crewed by adults, possibly other demigods? What’s a red flag?

Then she was dragged into the water. Perfect New York stayed as it was for moment, then abruptly disappeared. Instead she was left with Percy, his face set in a mix of determination and panic. He pulled her deeper into the surf, and the pressure on her arm hurt. More importantly, he was stopping her from getting to The Sirens. She thrashed, landing a good, hard kick to his nose. Percy kept swimming, damn him to Hades.

Her pace and desperation picked up when they began moving faster. Percy was using the currents! She hit him in every spot she could, despite the water making her far slower. They kept moving away, though. She was a second away from going for his groin when she was pulled under.

The water felt horribly cold. The water near The Sirens had been so warm.

Hold on, part of her said. That was the water of _The Sirens_. What the heck was she doing?

Percy pulled her deeper under the water. It hurt to keep her eyes open, but she thought that something was off with his face. The pressure mounted and there was a grip on her waist. Then she was shooting down vertically. Underwater. That should only have been possible for an artillery shell or some such. Not people.

That thought was quickly pushed aside, though. Because then she began to run out of breath. Also while she was under water. Annabeth tried to swim upward, get to air. All the while she was doing this, part of her was realizing just what she’d seen. The more desperate she got, as if to make her drown, that part screamed its message louder.

She opened her mouth the scream, but was met with salty sea water. Oh gods. She was going to die here.

Suddenly, though, as she closed her mouth, air flooded in. Her eyes were misty. It wasn’t with thought that she greedily sucked in more air - that was all natural. She gasped and coughed. Her feet were still wet. She was in some kind of… bubble. An air pocket? No, that wouldn’t make sense. No… this was…

It was then she noticed Percy. His feet were in the water, too. Around them, the dark green Carribean loomed; schools of fish curiously stopped and stared at them, and some piranas were checking them out. Nothing got in, though.

Percy was holding onto her waist with both hands. His face was bleeding lightly, and the beginnings of black eyes were purpling. His nose was askew. There were fading white marks on his arms - someone had ripped some sections of his t-shirt and dug their nails into them like claws. His hair was messy. His face was completely panicked now.

That was all fine, of course. Demigods getting scraped and bruised was par for the course. The problem was that someone hadn’t done this to him - she had.

Annabeth didn’t care that Percy was cute and his eyes were really pretty. He was a friend - and she’d just intentionally hurt him.

How she ended up sobbing into his shoulder she didn’t know - it was the only thing there to cling to, she supposed. But all the same it hurt. The vision hurt. The truth hurt.

Why Percy was so supportive, Annabeth didn’t know. She still wasn’t sure where that kelp-head’s sense of decency came from, but she was glad for it. She knew she probably would’ve had some choice words in his place.

No yelling from that incident, though. No arguments over it. The vision the Sirens had shown her plagued her nightmares for the rest of the quest, however.

She’d had so many times she could recall it perfectly. It started off with her in Central Park as usual. Her dad would make a joke about the two Greeks and a Persian walking into a polis, her mom would laugh, Luke would chuckle, and she would laugh loudly. That laugh always echoed oddly, and then all three of them turned their heads towards her.

Luke became Thalia. Thalia as she’d been on that night ten years ago: clothes torn, jacket long gone and with strips wrapped around her cuts. Her hair in disarray.

“Why didn’t you save me?” she asked. “If you’re so smart, why were you too stupid to know that Grover was getting us lost?”

Then her dad turned into Chiron, shaking his head at her. His disappointment hurt like nothing else. He sighed. “For someone so bright, I could not have imagined that sort of behavior. You were supposed to be better, Ms. Chase.”

Her mom looked Annabeth square in the eye. “My children are wise, daughter. But that wisdom is earned. Always.”

Luke became Silena. She shook her head. “Wow. I never thought you’d do something like that, ‘Beth. Guess I misjudged you.”

Chiron became Malcolm. He glared at her. “You idiot! Why didn’t you disarm yourself? Why did you think that was even a good idea in the first place? You can’t force yourself to get wisdom!”

Then everything fell away and it was just her and her mother. Except her mom shrank. She was instead met with Percy, as he was in the bubble. His eyes were red. He glared at her, eyes swirling with volatile blend of disgust and raw hurt that gave Annabeth real pause.

“Why?”

Annabeth wouldn’t say anything back. She couldn’t find her voice.

“Why? After saving the world together? Did that mean anything to you?” he glared harder and took a step forward. A tidal wave rose behind him - a black mass she initially thought was water but then quickly realized was spiders. “Or are you just so self-centered you can’t consider others? You didn’t think about what I’d do, did you? You just want your dream Manhattan with Luke and your family. You want to destroy everything so it’s perfect for _you_. Not me, not Thalia, not your parents, not Camp. You just want what’s good for _you_. Well _you_ can have it!”

The spiders washed over her.

She’d either wake up screaming, in cold sweat, sniffling, or all of that at once. She hadn’t had that dream in years, but it still made her rub her arms a bit, anticipating a shiver that never came.

She was on Olympus. The Hall of the Gods. Every olympian was there - including her own mother. She was beautiful, and looked just how Annabeth had always seen her: everything she wanted to be. Blonde hair in the type of curls that she had yet to (And still hadn’t, much to her occasional frustration) get down quite right. A white dress that was exactly what Annabeth wanted everything she owned to be: simple and elegant. She radiated authority. No one would think to call her a dumb blonde, anyhow.

“Annabeth is right,” Artemis said. “Which is why I must first make a reward. My faithful companion, Zoe Nightshade, has passed into the stars. I must have a new lieutenant. And I intend to choose one. But first, Father Zeus, I must speak with you privately.”

Zeus beckoned Artemis forward. They shared a whispered conversation.

“Annabeth,” Percy said quietly. His voice was urgent. Scared. “Don’t.”

She turned her head to frown at him. He was eyeing a space halfway between the floor and Zeus’s shoes. “What?”

“Look, I need to tell you something,” Percy continued. Annabeth felt the Olympians’ eyes on them. Her mother’s, especially. Aphrodite was also eyeing her with a slightly amused smile. She looked like she wanted to go into full-blown smirk, but was restraining herself. Hermes, Ares, Demeter, and Apollo seemed curious. Hades and Hera’s faces were neutral, though the latter’s gaze had a harder edge to it. Dionysus was looking at Percy with amount of… something? That was weird. Poseidon peered at her with a frown. It wasn’t reproving, or very judging in any real capacity. His gaze was just there. Like she was a tropical storm he hadn’t predicted: _Alright, now what will you do?_ Percy looked even worse than he had holding the sky. “I couldn’t stand it if… I don’t want you to-”

“Percy?” Annabeth asked. “You look like you’re gonna be sick.”

It was obvious he had more to say - and she’d often been curious as to what that would’ve been - but Artemis turned.

“I shall have a new lieutenant,” she said, “If she will accept it.”

“No.” Percy murmured. He sounded terrified.

“Thalia,” Artemis said, and he appeared stunned for a second as she continued. “Daughter of Zeus. Will you join the hunt?”

Annabeth smiled at her, and squeezed her hand. She’d had a hunch about this.

“I will,” Thalia said firmly.

Annabeth remembered it being difficult to keep in her tears while Thalia joined the hunt. She’d miss her so much.

The council adjourned, and the party began, but what mainly stood out to Annabeth was two looks she’d received: one clearly meaningful look from her mother she couldn’t decipher, and another from Aphrodite, who winked at her as she left. Both of which had stuck with her for longer than they deserved to (At least with Aphrodite).

The party was fun. A godling showed her some great moves (because she was completely lost on what to do), and was having a pretty good time of it when she glimpsed Percy and stiffened. The godling followed the line made by her eyes and, with a shrug of her shoulders and a wink, grinned at her. “I think you’ve got this.”

Then she disappeared into the crowd. Annabeth was going red, and she pushed the why of it down a good two dozen feet. She shook her head and wove through the throng of partygoers, and when she saw Athena staring down Percy with a glint in her eye she could only just describe: a type of malevolence that was so cold, so calculated, so no-nonsense it made her stop for a second. Percy wasn’t taking it so well. Annabeth forced a smile on her face.

Her mother left soon after, but it was as if someone had told Percy the date of his death. He was quiet in a way that was unnerving. “Was she giving you a hard time?”

“No,” Percy responded, “It’s… fine.”

So it wasn’t, then.

Annabeth took in his face: same jawline getting just a bit more defined each time they saw each other, same skin with scattered tanning that made it look like Percy had a lot of freckles, the same eyes. Except for the streak of gray hair. That had come from holding Atlas’s burden, like hers. It was the mark of a true hero. The fact that he'd gone through that and her mom was still giving him grief made part of her angry, but she did her utmost to keep that from her face. Percy might misinterpret it and she didn’t want that. She must’ve succeeded, because he didn’t get even more sheepish, and she found herself touching his gray streak. The hair looked old, and it felt like steel wool in her fingers. It was a singular mass. A scar.

Annabeth frowned at him. “So, what did you want to tell me earlier?”

Percy appeared more likely to explode with whatever was bothering him than speak, but he spoke. He was stubborn like that. “I, uh, was thinking we got interrupted at Westover Hall,” there was a minute pause that gave Annabeth more information than anything else. “And… I think I owe you a dance.”

There was no way there wasn’t more to it than that. Annabeth wanted answers then and there - no one needed the Hudson flooding because of Percy being upset. However, something was stopping her.

Percy seemed… wounded. Whatever her mom had said had shaken him something fierce. He’d also picked up an air of weariness that she felt didn’t belong to him. Thalia leaving for the hunters was probably weighing on him, too; Thalia may have stopped the prophecy for the time being, but that also meant it was pretty much guaranteed that Percy would have to deal with it. Easy that most certainly was not.

Part of her wanted to crack a joke. Make fun of Clarisse. A radical corner of her (For some reason) loudly threw out the idea that she should hug him and say everything was gonna be okay. The tension in his expression ripped up her heart strings - she wanted to do _something_ to make him smile. But with her mom so close and the literal God of Love at most a few dozen feet away, a hug could land them both in hot water. Joking, as well, didn't seem to fit the tone. But... gods, sometimes she really wished she could see inside that boy’s head.

He didn’t need her being serious, though. She also found the idea of dancing with more appealing; so she smiled.

The music she heard was slow. Classical. Kinda mournful, but also with a defined note of hope. She liked it.

Only a handful of months after that, Annabeth reflected, she’d be giving grief to him like no tomorrow. She understood why she acted the way she did, but that didn’t really help much. She still felt guilty about it.

She hated to think about what might’ve happened if Percy had had enough of it and given up. Whenever he’d talked about Rachel back then (And he’d mentioned her a _lot_ ) it was always with an air of discomfort. That probably had something to do with the fact that she’d scowl at him each time he did, but there was also this note of fondness. He’d liked her, romantically or not, of that Annabeth was sure. That was all capped off by the fact that as far as her knowledge went, Rachel was his only friend at school then.

And, yes, she’d broadly gotten it into her head that that would mean he’d spend a lot of time with her, that hadn’t stopped her from getting snappy with him. Her jealousy wasn’t that she was afraid he’d start going out with her (Not initially, anyway) but again, more from her being afraid that he’d start confiding in Rachel more than her.

Yes, that was stupid. Sweet Hera did she know that. It remained, though, that she really wanted Percy to herself. That was selfish, she knew, and she worked against that (eventually) accordingly. She wanted Percy to herself to talk to. Hang out with. Maybe (probably) beat in the Arena. Most of all she wanted someone to confide in that didn’t have the rough edges of Thalia or the lack of emotional range most of her siblings had. Silena was that in a way, but she had always been more of an older sister figure. Percy was an equal.

And so they’d fought and bickered like they were eleven again. And now… now Percy was literally gone.

Jason had told her about Camp Jupiter. She knew they functioned like Rome had - praetors, augurs, quaestors, what have you. No consul though. She knew that in New Rome generations of demigods lived. In fact, a lot of their legionaries were legacies of actual demigods. Jason had filled her in on how they were sent to destroy Mount Othrys, and how he’d defeated the titan Krios. The Romans had apparently been told that by doing that, by acting before the problem got too serious, they’d saved the world. Jason admitted he’d felt it lined up a bit too well with the Roman philosophy of defensiveness, but (He took an interest in his shoes as he went on) he’d shrugged because they’d won.

If she was right, then Percy was in the Roman camp. And that wasn’t a comforting fact.

What if the Romans decided they didn’t like a Greek in their camp? What if Percy didn’t survive the training Roman demigods went through with Lupa? So many things could go wrong in Hera’s plan. Too many. It was the best they had, though.

But Annabeth knew herself. And she knew the other reason she was scared.

Jason and Piper were an item now. It had been clear from when they first arrived in camp that they were drawn to each other. But when Jason told her about the Roman side, he’d also mentioned the other praetor they had. Reyna Avila Ramírez Arellano. A daughter of Bellona, another war goddess. And the lilt in Jason’s voice when he’d talked about her was eerily similar to how he spoke about Piper. That unnerved her.

Hera hated her, she knew. The feeling was mutual by this point. Part of Annabeth was paranoid that she’d pull with Percy the same thing she pulled with Jason: give him two companions, one of which he’d fall for. Annabeth understood what you’d do for people you love - the scar on her lower back was proof of that. Having someone fight with was one thing, but someone to fight for was a different beast.

Annabeth felt herself scowling and forced her face back into neutral territory. She’d find Percy. She had to.

Percy wasn’t her boyfriend; he was her partner.

And Annabeth Chase could do anything she set her mind to.

She stood up, dusting herself off and making her way to the Athena Cabin. For once, she didn’t look back.

**Author's Note:**

> See, this is what happens when you take a character who's bad a dealing with emotions, screw with them, then NOT explore that at all: Fanfic authors will torture them for their own catharsis. Learn, Rick. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this. I showed it to one of my friends and they liked it, but I am nothing if not a talented catastrophist. This actually started out as "All the percabeth moments pre-TLH from Annabeth's POV", and became something if not better, at the very least more interesting. 
> 
> At least to my weird brain, anyways. C'est la vie. 
> 
> All of my worry and angst aside, I really hope you enjoyed reading this! It was fun to write from Annabeth's POV, as much as Percy or Leo's sarcasm appealed to me. Any and all comments/bookmarks/kudos will make my day. 'Till next time. - Raging Celiac


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